


Project Azkaban

by UnwrittenCurse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anxiety, Azkaban, Community: HPFT, Department of Mysteries, F/M, Fear, Female Character of Color, LGBTQ Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Unspeakables
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnwrittenCurse/pseuds/UnwrittenCurse
Summary: Plans for The Azkaban Project began during Voldemort’s reign. With the allegiance of the dementors in question, Azkaban’s current order of operation was no longer viable. Combining their most innovative studies in Space, Time, and Thought, the Department of Mysteries forged a new prison experiment. But what they thought they could control, soon began to control them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Prison Break**

On Day 123 (or 124, or 125--he’d certainly lost track of a day or two in this perpetual doldrum), the prison bars opened of their own accord. He sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, playing the game where he counted his breaths until he reached one thousand, when the reluctant groan of metal bars stopped him at four hundred seventy eight. 

His muscles tensed. Constancy was a constant here. The inevitability of the morning sun ushering in his breakfast through the slot by the window and of eating alone, bathing alone, sleeping alone meant that he didn’t need to account for changes such as this. But now--the open bars, baiting him or inviting him or perhaps even punishing him. He didn’t know.

His survival instinct screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t trust his instincts. Not when he couldn’t even remember his own last name.

His first name had come to him about a month in. He awoke one morning uttering a single word: _Teddy_ . Over and over again. He bathed under the spicket, the water beating his scalp and shoulders in tiny, ice-cold beads, _Teddy, Teddy, Teddy,_ until he looked up at the pockmarked ceiling, wiped the water from his lashes, and knew.

“Teddy,” he said aloud. “Me.”

From there, the flashes came. He called them flashes because he couldn’t be sure they were memories; they weren’t long enough to be memories, or even dreams. They came in lightning bolts of sights and sounds. As he performed his evening routine of push ups against the cement floor, a flash of piano music came, ethereal and proud. As he tidied up after dinner, sliding his plate into the slot by the window sill, a flash of yellow and black came, woven into the fabric of a scarf.

They struck with intensity and longing. They struck without warning.

And most came with a vision of a single, glowing face framed in striking blond hair.

He felt like he knew this person, this face, but how could he know her when he-- _Teddy_ \--was the only person in the entire world?

He sometimes pondered the likelihood of a world outside the four walls of his cell, but he couldn’t fully imagine it. He had been forged in this cell. It held him as a womb and on the day he opened his eyes, he became its only child--a human experiment, to learn and to grow and to breathe… alone. All he could remember resided in his cell. The cold, gray walls and the metal bars. The distant creaking of pipes and the inner workings of the cell as it shifted and danced around him almost imperceptibly. If the cell had created him, surely the cell itself held life. He could feel it. A quiet undercurrent.

So how could he leave? How could he get up and walk out of the only home he had ever known, even if the minutiae of living threatened to overwhelm in a moment’s breath? To leave his benevolent creator, who fed him and held him every day of his life, would be the ultimate betrayal.

But he also knew, deep inside of him, somewhere out of bounds, that he had lived before. And that life--whenever and wherever it had been--had been spectacular. It had something to do with the face from his flashes. The face that made him burn from the inside out.

As he contemplated his options, another flash struck. This time, it was a vision of a male figure, running through the hall of the prison, screaming in an echoing refrain.

“Save yourselves!”

The figure had hair caught between brown and blond, and a triumphant expression hung from his aristocratic features. Teddy marveled at how the flash kept going, now almost in slow motion, until he realized it wasn’t a flash at all but reality playing before him and he leapt up before consciously commanding his muscles to move. He took one step toward the exit and found himself, once again, hesitant.

His hesitation was all it took. The figure vanished, but not before turning to look over his shoulder, his eyes connecting with Teddy’s, pleading. He left only the echo of “Save yourselves” pounding through the prison like a headache.

How long Teddy stood there, he couldn’t tell. His world had shifted. He could feel it in the patterns and vibrations of his cell, which had altered, perhaps irreparably. He tried to make sense of this new reality, and felt anger humming in his veins. Anger at constancy for its failure.

He might have stood there indefinitely if it weren’t for the second flash-- _no_ , Teddy rebuked himself, _this is real._ And he was right. The voice that snaked through the prison this time did not pound but trill. A woman’s voice. Warm. Hesitant. And very real.

“Hello?” it called. “Is anyone else here?”

He opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out. His tongue felt dry, his throat weak with disuse.

“Hello?” the voice called again, this time much closer.

Teddy managed to creep towards the mouth of his cell. He reached out for the open bars, his fingers just barely grazing them as the woman stepped into view wearing a matching gray jumpsuit and faraway expression. Her auburn hair hung in scraggly braids just above her waist. She saw him and attempted a smile.

“I can’t believe it,” she breathed. He saw her fold minutely into herself. “I can’t--”

“Shit.” Another voice joined the cacophony. Teddy put his hands over his ears, his anger swelling at the disruption. It was too much, all at once. He wanted it to stop.

A man stepped into view, markedly younger-looking than Teddy felt himself to be, though equally as disheveled. He had long, honey-colored hair and thin, uneasy eyes. His mouth hung open as he surveyed the scene, taking in Teddy and the auburn-haired woman who seemed to curl even more inward.

“Shit,” he said again, stopping in the middle of the hall, at least six feet from the woman. “All this time, I thought I was alone.” He laughed--actually laughed--and Teddy felt his frown deepen. “Did you lot hear me talking to myself? I suppose it wasn’t to myself if you all were--I mean, did you hear me?”

The woman began shaking her head, shaking it and shaking it, until finally the man added, “What do you reckon?” He pointed in the direction of the fleeing figure and the woman stopped shaking her head to turn and look. Teddy looked, too. As he looked he could almost feel the remnants of the man’s warning as he fled from the prison. They clung to his skin like spider’s silk.

“Should we follow?” the woman asked. Teddy caught her gaze. Its intimacy struck him; she was asking him and him alone in a silent vote for his leadership.

He wasn’t sure he wanted it.

“No,” Teddy said, firmly, surprised at the strength in his own voice.

_Save yourselves_.

He contemplated bolting for the exit, leaving the two of them standing there stupidly to gape after him. Perhaps they’d follow, or perhaps they’d stay to… To what? To die? They deserved it, the intruders, for disrupting his home, his kingdom, where everything had a time and a place and it didn’t include these strangers.

But the thought burst like a bubble stretched thin under the weight of the sun, and the realization that he wasn’t the sort to abandon anyone hit him square in the chest.

He shook his head, not knowing where the realization had come from or if it was even true, only that he knew what he had to do, so he said, “We should check for others,” and he didn’t care if they followed him or not, only that this was right and leaving was wrong.

If Teddy expected dissent, he would have been pleasantly surprised at the nods he received from his two, sudden comrades. But he hadn’t been expecting dissent because he hadn’t been expecting anything. His mind still reeled from the explosion of sound and _change_ still unfolding in the hall. He moved automatically. He felt separate from his body as it lead the woman with auburn hair-- _Calliope_ , she introduced herself, though she quickly followed with, “I feel more like a Cal, but I don’t know why.” Teddy grunted in solidarity. He didn’t know why either, or where, or when.

They checked the hallway in vain, then turned down another, darker hall. Their footsteps dragged and shuffled. Teddy watched the others move and felt oddly _itchy_. They moved like him, as if the effort of moving shocked them just as much as the unreality of being among other things that moved.

The younger man introduced himself as _Lysander_ and the revelation seemed to lift his demeanor, so Teddy reluctantly gave up his one and only secret, too.

“I’m Teddy,” he said, pressing his palm against the rough brick wall. Cal tapped on a pipe and Lysander peeked around a corner. They both nodded in gratitude as they accepted his name, then fell into a busy silence. Conversation seemed hardly sustainable when none of them had done much talking in the last 123 (124? 125?) days.

Then it struck Teddy. Had they all spent equal lengths in this prison? Had they all been isolated in their cells? Had they all seen the flashes? Had any of them seen something significant? A life, perhaps, outside of these walls?

And _why were they here?_

Suddenly, Teddy yearned for nothing more than conversation. His willingness to share his solitary experiences surprised him, but more than that, he wanted to know the secrets of this place, and the life that slumbered just beyond the gray brick walls of his cell. He wanted to know all of this, and more--until he turned the corner and stumbled upon an open but clearly inhabited cell.

He stopped abruptly, almost calling out for the others, but compelled, somehow, to stay quiet.

His posture softened as he approached the cell and the figure inside. _She_ \--he noticed the feminine curve of the figure immediately--knelt on the floor with her head in her hands, sweeping locks of blond pouring over her wrists and elbows and knees.

Teddy sucked a breath in through tight lips.

“H-hello?” he offered.

Her head tilted back, lips slightly parted as her gasp hit the air with a hiss.

And he knew. He knew with a surety that struck like lightning, though he hadn’t known until this very moment. And so he whispered, calling out to her,

“Victoire?”

  


**PROJECT PROPOSAL**

**AZKABAN 2.0**

**Date:** 2 Feb 1998

**Project Requestor:** Emmanuel Brandt, Unspeakable, Space Department

**Statement of the Problem or Need:**

The Second Wizarding War has brought into light the issue of alliances. Some breeds of creature and dark beings have joined the army of Death Eaters in supporting He Who Must Not Be Named in his mission to overtake the world, both magical and Muggle. One such dark being is the dementor, the guardians of Azkaban Prison, who have until now been neutral. The dementors of Azkaban have been persuaded by promises of power and esteem to join He Who Must Not Be Named and, as such, have fallen out of our bounds.

In light of this shift, the current structure of Azkaban Prison is called into question. The prison can no longer operate under the jurisdiction of a being so easily swayed. We cannot feel confident in placing dangerous criminals in the hands of beings who may, at a moment’s notice, release said criminals. It would be a disaster for the Ministry and a safety hazard for the world-at-large.

**Project Deliverables and Beneficiaries:**

The end result of this project would be a space-saving, completely self-sufficient prison structure safe from the influence of dark beings and/or persons. All current functionality of Azkaban Prison (as a structure) would still exist.

**Special Provisions:**

I. SPACE: The new Azkaban Prison structure would hold an infinite number of dark wizards and criminals, without the need for guards. A small department of supervisors would suffice to oversee operations.

The most innovative spellwork and charms, as explained in Anastasia Petteridge’s text _An Analysis of Universes: Experiments in Space and Time_ , would be utilized to create a self-contained unit, accessible through a portal of sorts, similar to the veil in the Death Chamber (under the jurisdiction of the Department of Mysteries). Criminals would pass through this door and emerge in the realm of Azkaban 2.0, wherein they would be sorted into a cell and there remain until their sentence has been served in full.

This new framework would eliminate the need for a new, physical structure and would save space--not to mention it could be expanded without limit.

II. TIME: Within the prison, time would operate at a speed of 2:1 in relation to the outside world. As such, a one-year sentence in Azkaban 2.0 would equate to six months in the outside world. The individual’s experience of time would be of a year’s passage, but the subject would age by only six months. This would allow criminals to serve multiple life sentences within the constraints of real time

Days will self-regulate at exactly 24 hours and the prison’s mainframe will run a backdrop of sunrise and sunset, at a constant, neutral temperature.

III. THOUGHT: Two items are up for consideration in the department of Thought: (1) the inner-workings and logarithms of the prison itself, in order to make the project self-sufficient, and (2) control over the minds of the subjects, to limit instances of attempted escape or subversion.

  1. The prison must be programmed to operate without intervention. This includes the implementation of routine: the feeding of prisoners, the cleaning of cells, the implementation of days and nights, etc. The programming would allow the prison to think for itself in terms of operations, and to ensure that prisoners are kept isolated and contained.
  2. The prisoners themselves would be erased of all memory upon entering the prison. Without memory or any tie to reality, their sentence could be served without incident.



**Project Risks:**

We run the risk of a tear in Space and/or Time, and thus this project would require experts in both departments (including experts in the department of Thought) working together to ensure nothing but the utmost care and consideration goes into the planning, design, and implementation of Azkaban 2.0.

Several trial runs would need to be conducted to ensure all operations are in working order.

Ethically, our trial runs would require willing and able participants. The isolation and memory erasure could be considered akin to torture, though in the punishment of criminals and dark wizards, such features are to be expected.

**Time Factors:**

The time frame for planning, design, creation, testing, and implementation is anticipated to be between 20-30 years.


	2. Strangers

How he knew her name he couldn't remember. But he knew it, and he knew hers was the face from his flashes. This sudden, unexpected discovery sent him running to her side. As he knelt down beside her, though, she recoiled. Her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"How do you know my name?" she hissed.

Teddy realized his mistake in that moment. She had no memory of him. Though his chest filled with warmth as he knelt by her side, to her he was a mere stranger.

The fact that he remembered _her_ when she clearly did not remember _him_ should have set off his alarms, but it didn't. Her presence filled him with purpose. Looking at her then--her eyes, haunted yet shining; her yellow hair falling in disarray--he imagined that he could never forget her. Not in a million lifetimes.

Victoire remained hunched over, her body angled away from him. She watched him closely, suspiciously, and he knew what she must be thinking: that he knew too much, that he was to blame for their world turning upside down. He wanted to tell her it wasn't him, but he couldn't. Because what if it was, somehow, all his fault?

Before his thoughts could spiral too far, a sharp gasp hit the air. He turned to see Cal standing in the hall, her hands over her mouth, the shadows carving into her skin. A new emotion cloyed at him, then. The urge to scream burned his throat, but he tamped it down, allowing Cal to approach Victoire-- _his_ Victoire--and gently place a hand on Victoire's forehead.

Victoire let Cal touch her and Teddy frowned, pressing his nails into his palm.

For calling Victoire by name, Teddy had become the enemy. He couldn't take it back and he couldn't explain how he knew it, so he stood up and fell back, edging his way out of Victoire's cell. Cal whispered heatedly to Victoire as Teddy backed away, yearning for the solitude and normalcy of his own cell even as he felt himself drawn to Victoire's side. Consumed by his irreconcilable thoughts, Teddy almost screamed when he collided with a solid, _living_ thing. Lysander.

Lysander didn't react to Teddy's intrusion other than to tilt his head slightly, his eyes hazy.

"I was just thinking..." he started, then trailed off, either because he forgot what he was thinking or his thoughts were too dark to bring to light. Then he looked up, first at Teddy and then past him, into Victoire's cell. Cognizance flooded his eyes.

"Woah!" Lysander shouted. "You found someone else. Nice going, Cal!"

Cal's eyes darted from Lysander to Teddy and lingered there for a second before she dropped her gaze to Victoire.

"This is Victoire," Cal said, her arm draped protectively over the hunched figure.

"I'm Lysander and that's--"

"I'm Teddy," Teddy filled in, looking back at Victoire with an ache in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head.

"We should keep looking," he continued, hoping that Victoire wouldn't expose their earlier exchange. If they both stayed silent about what had transpired between them, then the others wouldn't turn on him, too. "There has to be someone else here. We should--well, we should look for them."

"What if we're it?" Cal replied. "What if we're all that's here?"

In lieu of a response, Teddy turned 180 degrees to face the empty hallway. He reached for the back of his shirt, pulling it taut to reveal what he knew to be there, what he had seen countless mornings as he dressed in silence: Three white letters. 002.

He heard Lysander breathe a low _hmmm_ as understanding struck.

"If I'm Number Two, then where's One?" Teddy asked, glancing over his shoulder at the others.

Cal was pointing at Lysander now as he spun in neat circles, tugging at the fabric of his gray shirt to reveal the white 006 on his back.

"Six," Cal breathed.

She turned to the smooth curve of Victoire's back, reading, "Three," then looked up at Teddy before finishing with, "And I'm Four." She spoke with certainty. She must have noticed the numbers on her shirt each morning, too. The numbers hadn't meant much until now, until his Two had a matching Three and Four and... Six.

"We're missing One and Five," he said aloud, then repeated, "There has to be a One and a Five."

"Hello!" Lysander shouted down the hallway suddenly. His voice echoed and the others stood transfixed and horrified by the sound as it rippled through the fabric of their shirts and through their skin.

Nothing.

Teddy released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Why don't we go outside?" It was Victoire. Her voice was thin, papery, but wise. "We can probably get a better idea of the scope of the place from an exterior perspective. We can decide where to go from there--where the others might be."

"Outside?" Teddy was surprised when his thoughts became sound. He hadn't intended to speak. He cleared his throat and added, "I didn't know there was an outside. I mean... what would be out there?"

The others were all equally perplexed.

"I remember outside," Victoire continued. "I had a vision or a--" She paused, searching for a word to match her experience.

"A flash?" Teddy supplied.

Victoire's eyes met his and, unless he imagined it, her gaze seemed to soften. An electric pulse connected them for a brief moment. He wondered if anyone else had felt it.

Then she said, "Yeah. It was a flash of green, of flowers and leaves... and--and wind and water. It was distinctly outside."

Teddy looked down at his hands, trying to make sense of all these words. Flowers. Leaves. Wind. _Water_ made sense. Water came from his spicket every morning and he stood under it as it beaded down on his thirsty scalp. But the other words... They felt oddly familiar and yet he couldn't place them. He knew, though--perhaps by the wistful look on Victoire's face--that she was right.

Outside existed. They only needed to find it.

"Where?" Lysander voiced, echoing Teddy's thoughts.

"The windows?" Victoire suggested.

There had been a window in Teddy's cell. He knew it was a window but had never really considered its purpose. It brought light. It brought dark. What else was it for?

Cal was nodding. "Yes! Windows lead to outside!"

Teddy and Lysander scrambled into Victoire's cell and spilled out around the walls, watching as Victoire approached the window. She stood on tiptoe and reached her arms up, over her head, her fingers clawing at the bricks but not quite reaching the window.

Teddy lurched forward to help, but Lysander beat him to it. He hurried to Victoire's side and knelt down, offering her a leg up. She stepped carefully onto his thigh, hoisting herself up with unexpected poise.

The others watched her with baited breath as she rose above the windowsill, gazing out at the world beyond the prison walls.

It was a long minute before Victoire gestured for Lysander to help her down. He placed his palms underneath her elbows and placed her gently on the cold earth, where she paused to look at her eager audience. When she finally did speak, her words seemed forced, staccatoed. "Grass. Trees--lots of trees. And mountains. That's all I saw." And she smiled, quick and fluttering, before crumpling to the floor and burying her head in her hands.

Suddenly it all made sense. They were _inside_ a prison. Of course there had to be an outside.

He could see it in their faces--the others had arrived at the same realization.The renewed hope sparkled in their eyes.

There was a way out. There had to be. And a way out meant there was something _else_. Something _more_.

"Why are we here?" It was Cal that spoke. Perhaps her question was borne from their renewed hope, for only in this warm, happy space were such questions allowed. It was a hard question, almost taboo, but in that moment, where the air sparkled with possibility, it was okay.

No one seemed surprised by the question; they were all thinking it, too. In fact, some of them seemed relieved that the question had finally been addressed.

"You know, I didn't even care about why I was here until today," Lysander said, moving to sit on Victoire's bed, which was bolted to the floor. "I didn't know anyone else was here, you know? I just thought... this is my life. I live in this cell. I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night in this cell. That's the way things are."

"Me too," Teddy echoed, leaning against the rough brick of the wall. "I actually... like my cell. I felt connected to it in some way."

Victoire's head was still in her hands, Cal's arm once again draped around her arched back.

"I don't think either of us felt that way," Cal spoke for the both herself and Victoire. "I started feeling... I guess hopeless is the best word. Like my life had no purpose. What good am I if I do the same thing every day? What is the point?"

"Does there have to be a point?" Lysander asked. Teddy could tell by the quiet tone of his voice that his question was genuine. It wasn't meant as an affront, and though Cal's initial reaction was to narrow her eyes, her expression did cool and she simply shrugged in response.

"I guess that's where we differ," was her gentle response. She sighed, then added, "I also didn't know anyone else was here. I had flashes of faces but I thought I was just imagining them to feel less alone. It's all mixed up, though, because I--I didn't really understand the concept of alone until I had the flashes, but I..." She paused and scrunched up her face. "It's like there's this block in my mind that won't let me think beyond this prison. Some things I know are true and others are hazy."

The others nodded. They all understood, in their own ways.

Teddy knew his name was Teddy. He was sure, though he didn't know why.

He was sure there was an outside, though he hadn't thought about the concept of inside the prison vs. outside the prison until Victoire had brought it up.

He looked at her now, hunched over, her breathing ragged as if crying silently. He didn't understand why. Was she confused? Scared? Overwhelmed?

He had that mental block feeling again--the one Cal had mentioned. Scared was a word he knew but he couldn't conceptualize the feeling. What was it like to be scared? What was there to be scared of?

He remembered, again, the man who ran through the prison screaming, "Save yourselves."

But... from what?

"Is this place dangerous?" Teddy asked, and both Cal and Lysander turned to him. He felt the heat of four eyes on him and blanched.

"What makes you say that?" Lysander asked in reply. His expression was torn--he seemed both skeptical and concerned at the same time.

"The guy from earlier... you know, ‘save yourselves,'" he reminded them.

Victoire let out a muffled cry. "Of course it's a bad place," she said, picking her head up from her hands to reveal glistening eyes and red cheeks. She quietly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "It separated us from each other for--"

"One hundred and twenty four days," Cal supplied and Teddy found himself giving her a weak smile, because he now knew that he wasn't the only one who had been counting.

"Yes," Victoire said. "A long time. It made Cal feel hopeless. It made me--" She didn't reply, but Teddy understood at once, the way she made herself small, the darkness in her eyes. She had lost her spark.

"So we're here... as a punishment?" Teddy asked. It felt weird coming from his mouth, especially considering the affection he still harbored for his cell. It had kept him safe, warm, well-fed, occupied. But, then again, it had also kept him from Victoire.

"What did we do?" Cal asked. Teddy watched a shiver run through her.

"Maybe this isn't a punishment," he supplied. "Maybe it's a challenge. Maybe we're supposed to do something."

Lysander seemed to perk up at the suggestion. "Yes!" he said. "That has to be it. Why else would our cells open? If we were being punished, they wouldn't let us all meet. Right?"

"Who's ‘they'?" Victoire asked. She was focused on Lysander now, so Teddy allowed himself to trace the lines of her face with his eyes, memorizing every feature, from the curve of her lips to the rounded tip of her nose. He drank in the blue of her eyes.

Lysander was silent for a moment, thinking. Cal supplied an answer for him: "The people in charge."

Teddy laughed. It surprised even himself.

"I didn't mean to--" He swallowed. "It's just... there isn't anyone in charge. The prison is in charge."

Lysander nodded, but he didn't seem too sure.

"That's ridiculous," Cal said. "A building can't be in charge. I mean... can it?"

Teddy was getting that feeling--the feeling that there was a distinct _before_ and that he was missing some vital information that would help him here, in the _after_.

A metal clank announced the arrival of food in the slot below Victoire's window. She scrambled up, presumably out of instinct, and then paused when she remembered that there were now three other people in her cell.

"We can split it," she said at once.

Teddy shook his head. "We should all head back to our cells," he said. "We'll meet back here after we eat."

The others nodded and made to leave. Lysander was the first out of the cell, Cal following close behind. Teddy lingered by the back of the cell, hoping to talk to Victoire. She was looking down at her hands, which were twisting and wringing nervously. He wanted to hold them.

"Victoire?" he said, softly. Her eyes flitted to his face and then back to her hands.

He wanted to say something about how he knew her name, to explain himself, but nothing was coming to mind. How was he supposed to explain that he had had flashes of her face countless times over the last few months? That he knew they were connected in some deep, abiding way? Especially considering she had clearly not had the same experience?

He was saved from saying anything further by the sound of Lysander's shout.

"What the--"

Teddy and Victoire looked at each other and then both scrambled to the door to see what Lysander had found.

It was a hallway, all gray brick and empty cells and shadows.

But it wasn't the same hallway as before.

In front of them, a twisting labyrinthe sprawled out in an impossible number of directions. It was as though the prison had grown infinitely in their absence.

"Yeah, I don't think we're going to be able to go back to our cells," Lysander said, speaking aloud what they were all thinking.

"Maybe the prison _is_ in charge," Cal breathed.

 

* * *

 

**PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT**

**PROJECT AZKABAN TEST: BRIEFING**

**3 SEPTEMBER 2026**

BRANDT: Welcome, recruits. Please, Trainee Weasley, take a seat. There we are. Welcome, welcome. Now, shall we begin? Underwood are we set?

UNDERWOOD: Yes, sir.

BRANDT: Very well. Recruits... everything is set for your deployment on the evening of the 10th. We've called you together today for a final briefing. We have a quick announcement from Malfoy and then we'd like to address any lingering questions, doubts, and the like. Malfoy?

MALFOY: Yes, thank you, sir. Unspeakable trainees, you'll be pleased, no doubt, to hear that I will be joining your little experiment.

BRANDT: Trial run, Malfoy. Not experiment.

[MALFOY: Right, right, you don't haze the recruits.]

BRANDT: Please strike that from the record, Underwood.

MALFOY: As I was saying, I will be joining your project--

SCAMANDER: You can keep him, Brandt.

PINCE: Yeah, we don't want him.

BRANDT: Trainees, please. We've asked him to join you. As an Obliviator and a skilled Legillimens, his experience in the prison will be very telling.

LUPIN: You think he'll retain his memories.

BRANDT: It is possible. And of course, these are the loopholes we want to iron out in this initial trial. We can't possible move forward in releasing Azkaban 2.0 for use with real criminals if the very basic parameters of our prison do not work as expected.

SCAMANDER: Okay, fine. He can come. But here's my question-  
BRANDT: Yes, Trainee Scamander, that's why we're all here, to ease any of your concerns.

SCAMANDER: Who else is freaking [the fuck] out?

BRANDT: Underwood, please...

UNDERWOOD: Stricken... sort of.

BRANDT: I assure you, Trainee Scamander, there is absolutely nothing to be concerned about, but if there is something specific that we can address today--

SCAMANDER: Oh, you know, just the whole five months of complete and total isolation bit.

BRANDT: Yes, well, there is that. But we will be in complete control the entire time. We have programmed a kill switch into the system in the event of a glitch.

LUPIN: You mean in case we all escape.

BRANDT: You won't get that far. We'll pull the switch and end the simulation at any hint of escape.

ZABINI: You trust we won't even attempt escape?

BRANDT: In five months' time, no. Not without any memory of the outside world. We remove any will or incentive to escape, as it were, when we remove your memories.

MALFOY: And you're hardly a hardened criminal, Emilia.

ZABINI: So you can assure us that we won't be left to face the Fear Generator.

BRANDT: Yes, I can assure you of that.

LUPIN: Does the Fear Generator kick in once outside our cells or outside the prison itself?

BRANDT: Outside the prison.

MALFOY: So don't leave the prison. Got it.

BRANDT: You won't be able to. There is no door. The only way out is the windows, which you can't reach without help. And since you'll be alone in your cells, there's no way for you to--

LUPIN: But what if we do? What if we manage to escape?

BRANDT: Let me be clear. This is simply a trial run to test the limits of the prison--to see how many individuals it can hold at its current capacity and if the logarithm changes over time. We will not let you escape. The second any of you set one foot outside, we pull the plug. You will not face the Fear Generator. As Malfoy so delicately stated, we do not haze our recruits and, as you all know by now, the Fear Generator is... well, let me put it this way: we like to keep our recruits alive.


End file.
